Chasing the Crown
by Miranda Wilson
Summary: Princess Adelaide Deveraux is your typical 18-year-old. She's unruly, hot-headed, and unfathomably sarcastic. But when the reality of her responsibilities as future Queen hit her, she flees from the castle to the deep corners of the Southern Forest. There, she learns exactly how little she knows about life and survival outside the castle gates.
1. Prologue

The kingdom of Endrias is in complete chaos. Every castle guard is on high alert and patrolling the streets of Highdell—the village that lies just outside the castle gates. The king has ordered a curfew. Everyone must be inside their homes by the time the sun dips behind the horizon. If they disobey the curfew, the King's Guards take matters into their own hands. In fear of cruel punishment, the villagers retreat to their homes—leaving the cobblestone streets desolate and deafeningly silent by nightfall.

Tensions weren't so high before. If a weary traveler were to wander into Highdell a week ago, they would be welcomed with open arms. A free room at the Gooseneck Tavern would be offered to them. And as long as they didn't seem to pose a threat to the kingdom or its people, they would be free to come and go as they pleased.

But now, the streets are swarming with guards. There are four posted on the main road that leads into the city and even more spread throughout the kingdom itself. The gates to Highdell are closed at sundown and only opened once the king awakens and gives the order himself.

Villagers are miserable, guards are being overworked, and the royal family is becoming restless—all because the princess has fled from the castle.


	2. One

The runaway princess trudged forward. Her leather boots sunk into the muddy earth and she cursed under her breath. Her toes were beginning to numb and her joints ached from walking. Glancing at the sky, she could see the sun at its highest—noon. She groaned. Even after walking all morning, she had barely made any progress. The forest only swallowed her deeper and deeper.

The worn path had long since vanished—leaving the princess to weave between the trees and brush. A dull ache in her right ankle reminded her to watch where she stepped. She passed by a dark bush—its leaves were spiked and spotted with raindrops from the night before. Scarlet colored berries bunched beneath each leaf. Their bright skins taunted the princess. Her stomach growled in protest as she walked by the tantalizing treat. Her mouth was dry and she was starving but she knew better than to succumb to the poisonous juices of Butcher's Broom.

Her stomach continued its angry grumble as she awkwardly climbed over a fallen tree. She pressed her palm against her lower abdomen and swallowed. Days had passed since she left the castle—although she wasn't sure as to how many exactly. The deeper she journeyed into the Southern Forest, the darker it became. The thick canopy of trees blocked the sun's rays from reaching the mossy ground. Without the sun, the forest grew cold during the afternoon and even colder at night. She often woke to her teeth chattering and her body shivering.

The princess silently thanked the gods that she had swapped her party gown for the dark tunic and pants she wore now. She looked down at her mud-spattered tunic. If her mother saw her in this state, she would receive a brutal lecture. But the princess didn't have to worry about lectures and being scolded any longer. The corner of her mouth pulled into a smirk as she recalled her escape.


	3. Two

"Ouch, that's too tight!"

The dark-haired girl who was helping the princess into her clothing bowed low at the waist. "My apologies, Princess," Her voice was small and timid. She loosened the ties of the corset. Her nimble fingers worked quickly, pulling and tying, pulling and tying. When she was finished, she stepped back and bowed again. "Which gown do you wish to wear tonight, Princess?"

"She will wear the one that Prince Rowan sent her."

The queen walked into the room. Her own gown flowed behind her in a beautiful waterfall. The rich purple of the gown made her skin appear as white as porcelain. She held her chin high and her shoulders back—a true proudness in her posture.

The princess watched the queen in the mirror that covered the one wall of her bedroom. Her mother came to a halt in the center of the room. Her icy blue eyes examined the stacks of books that sat by the window.

Queen Jocelyn never took to reading. She preferred the entertainment of plays and parties. A book was too quiet for her liking. She let out a sigh and brought her eyes to the princess who was now stepping into a pale-yellow gown. The princess had a look of disgust on her face.

"Adelaide, mind your face." The queen scolded. The princess looked to her mother with a forced smile on her lips.

"Is this better, mother?" Adelaide's voice held a challenge but it was far from sincere. She knew better than to go against the queen. Her mother scowled and the princess's smile vanished.

"Honestly, Adelaide, why must you test my patience today?"

The princess sighed and studied her reflection. The yellow fabric glowed against her skin and made her look sickly. The sleeves ended nearly an inch before her wrists. The ends were trimmed with lace and made her skin itch. Three separate layers formed the skirt. The first encircled her legs while the other two flanked her sides. The neckline draped across her chest and accented her breasts. It had the potential to be a gorgeous gown—if only it was in a different color.

The dark-haired girl retreated as the queen approached. Queen Jocelyn reached up and around Adelaide's shoulders. She pinched the delicate chain of the princess's necklace with her fragile fingers and raised an eyebrow.

"What is this?" she asked.

"Grandmother gave it to me before she passed away. It was a gift." Adelaide stated plainly. She swallowed hard and tried to ignore the tightening in her chest. Her frail and ill grandmother had died nearly five years ago but the pain of her absence still remained.

The necklace was perfect. Adelaide was more than thrilled when her grandmother opened the velvet box. It was the night of Adelaide's thirteenth birthday and the rest of her family was on holiday in Lochbeach. Adelaide had fallen ill and was not well enough to make the trip. Her grandmother spent the day with her, baking various cakes and desserts. After Adelaide blew out her candles and made a wish, she begged for her gift.

The necklace was made from solid gold. Its delicate chain was braided together in a thin band. The three strands unraveled and their ends connected to the bust of a golden stag. The strands were fastened to the tips of the three-pointed antlers. Each antler represented the six kingdoms. The bust of the stag was no larger than Adelaide's thumbnail but it held intricate detail. Her grandmother warned the princess to guard the necklace with her life—the gold being just as valuable as the air in their lungs. To respect her grandmother's wishes, Adelaide never took the necklace off. Not even to bathe.

"Pardon me, Your Majesty,"

All eyes turned to the deep voice. Philip Staunton, the Captain of the King's Guards, stood in the doorway. His hands were by his sides and balled into fists. He looked uneasy as his gaze danced from the queen to the princess and back. Adelaide cocked her head to the side as she studied the captain.

He looked mature—his dark hair showing gray by his temples. His face was darkened by stubble and he had circles under his eyes. He looked exhausted. Adelaide bit the inside of her bottom lip. Why would the Captain be so tired? The kingdoms are at peace, there is nothing to worry over.

"Yes, Philip?" Queen Jocelyn chimed.

His chest heaved as if he had been holding his breath. He bowed quickly. The queen and the princess answered with a dip of their chin.

"The guests have begun arriving." He said smoothly.

The queen thanked him and lowered her chin a second time—dismissing the Captain. He bowed, turned on his heel, and retreated into the hall. The large wooden door closed behind him and the room fell silent.

Adelaide held her hand out and the dark-haired girl stepped forward. She gently took the princess's hand and helped her down from the pedestal that sat in front of the mirror. Once the princess stood firmly, the girl released her hand and bowed at the waist.

"Alys," the queen addressed the girl. Adelaide made a mental note to remember the girl's name. "Will you accompany me to the Grand Room?"

Alys dropped her eyes to the floor and bowed her head. "Of course, milady,"

Jocelyn turned her attention to her daughter. "I expect to see you in the Grand Room promptly. You wouldn't want to disappoint your guests, would you?"

It was more of a threat than it was a question. The queen had gone through hell and back to make sure the engagement party was flawless. Adelaide had stumbled upon the queen in the library. She was huddled over an extensive guest list. Each day the list seemed to grow longer and her mother seemed to grow more uptight.

"They're not _my _guests." Adelaide said as she scratched at her sleeves. She shifted her weight onto her right leg—her feet were already aching from the high heels of her shoes. "I barely know these people."

Queen Jocelyn's eyes narrowed. "Then you get to know them. I've invited Rowan's family, and nearly every Royal in the two kingdoms. I expect you to be polite and courteous. The Adhemars are to be your family, too, in a few weeks."

Adelaide fought to hide her scowl. She had never met the Adhemar family aside from the prince. The rumors that spread throughout the kingdoms were far from pleasant.

Rowan, the only son of King Vicar and Queen Catherine, and Adelaide's soon-to-be-husband, lived up to his reputation of a spoiled prince. He was pompous, greedy, and specialized in insults. The first meeting between the betrothed resulted in tears. But it wasn't the princess who walked away crying.

"And Adelaide," the queen paused in the doorway and looked over her shoulder. Alys stood behind her, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Adelaide would have to scold her for that. Restlessness was an annoyance. "Do try to behave. How do you expect to rule a kingdom if no one likes you?"

Adelaide glanced at herself in the mirror. Her dark blue eyes stood out against the yellow dress. She raised her chin and squared her shoulders.

"They don't have to like me."


	4. Three

Adelaide sat beside her mother. Her eyes were fixated on the steaming body of the roasted boar that lay on the table. The eye sockets were empty and the flesh had been charred a deep red—matching the skin of the apple in its mouth. An assortment of bright colored vegetables circled the boar. It smelled delicious. Adelaide's mouth began to water as she trailed her eyes along the length of the table. Platters of chicken, beef, and fish sat among the bowls of stew and the baskets of bread. Cups upon cups of ale and wine were scattered along the table.

Laughter and music filled the Grand Room, making it hard for the princess to hear her own thoughts. Her father erupted in hysterics—his feet stomping on the floor and ale sloshing from his cup. The queen ignored him, keeping her eyes on the party that played out below them.

As tradition, the royal families sat in the balcony that overlooked the Grand Room. Their guests mingled below on the main floor where several more buffet tables lined the walls. The bride's family sat to the right of the table and the groom's to the left. Banners with their respected crests were draped over the balcony in front of them.

Both kings were seated in the middle of the table. Their queens were beside them, followed by their children. Adelaide was relieved to have four people between her and the prince.

Once the celebratory boar was carved, she would be free to roam among the guests. Adelaide's eyes flashed to the long knife that protruded from the back of the pig's neck. As much as she didn't want to socialize with the strangers dancing below, the idea of sitting next to the queen for any longer made her palms itch.

Adelaide looked around the balcony. Two guards stood close—one at each end of the table—and two more were by the door. She stretched her neck to peer over the table and down to the main floor. The guards posted along the walls looked bored—one even had his eyes closed. If someone truly wanted to kill the royal family, now was their chance. All they would need is a bow, an arrow, and excellent aim.

She turned her attention back to her father. His belly laugh was growing louder. His fist pounded against the arm of his chair. She had missed the joke—but looking at her mother's face, it most likely wasn't funny. Adelaide leaned forward and looked past her father to the Adhemar family.

Vicar Adhemar was fat. His stomach bulged in his sun-yellow tunic and there was a dark stain from ale on his chest. His legs were short and resembled tree trunks thanks to his brown pants. Adelaide had always hated the colors of the Adhemars' crest. Yellow and brown were a terrible mixture. History books told that the colors represented the sun and the soil.

Adelaide moved her attention to the king's face. Sagging cheeks met to form his overlapping chins and thick neck. His face was red and sweaty, making his balding head shine. Adelaide wondered how a man as grotesque as he could possibly rule a kingdom. Had he gone into battle in that state? She shook her head slightly—Vicar ruled Mirella which was home to the Black Knights.

The Black Knights were Mirella's one and only form of defense. The army consisted of thousands of men hailing from far beyond the Great Eastern Mountains. They were taken from their mothers at birth and thrown into intense training. They mastered swordsmanship, archery, potions, and hand-to-hand combat before their twelfth birthday. If they failed, they were killed. Many legends told that the Black Knights were born from the witches that still dwelled in the wastes beyond the mountains. It was the only way to explain their unmatchable agility and strength. No one except King Vicar knew how the Black Knights came to serve Mirella—and no one dared to ask.

Adelaide's eyes moved to Queen Catherine. Her face was made of narrow eyes, sharp cheekbones, and pale skin. Her long, blonde, hair flowed around her slender neck and over her shoulders. Everything about the queen of Mirella was small. She had a small face, small hands, and a small stature. She looked like a child—the only proof of her royalty was the crown on her head.

A tap on her shoulder caused Adelaide to jump. Her head whipped around. Allister, her twin brother, sat beside her. A smug smile played on his lips. He crossed his arms over his chest and slumped in his chair. "Admiring your future lover?" he purred.

Adelaide scoffed and sat back in her chair. Her shoulder blades sank into the velvet cushion. Allister watched her, the smirk never leaving his mouth. Her blood boiled and she had to stop herself from smacking the smile off his face.

Allister's eyes were as dark as the Eralevudd Sea—as were Adelaide's. He had their father's strong jaw and chin. They shared their mother's chestnut hair and piercing eyes. Adelaide inherited the queen's high cheek bones and slender face. Some days, Adelaide thought her looks were the only things she had in common with her mother. Most days, she was right.

Although they were twins, Allister and Adelaide were different in every way. They had been raised on opposite ends of the castle. Allister spent his days with the king, learning how to fight, hunt, and be a king. He had the fun lessons.

In the east wing, Adelaide learned to sew, play fortepiano, and proper princess etiquette. Her mother was by her side every moment to make sure the unruly princess behaved.

While Adelaide struggled to stay awake during her music lessons and the queen's lectures, Allister was learning useful skills. He trained with the King's Guards in the sparring ring nearly every day. When he wasn't dodging strikes and punches, he was studying the maps of the kingdoms and learning battle plans.

In the ring, and in front of their parents, Allister was a perfect gentleman. He bowed respectively to every lady-in-waiting that fetched his water. But when he wasn't under the watchful eye of the king, he was off wooing that same girl. There wasn't a morning that passed by when another girl wasn't slipping out of his chamber. The guards simply turned their heads—pretending nothing happened. Some even went as far as asking the princess why they never saw strange men tiptoeing from her chambers in the early morning.

In the last few years, Allister seemed to calm down. The numbers of his random conquests lessened greatly—resulting from one lady-in-waiting refusing his advances and making a fool of the prince. Allister was enraged. In his fury, he dragged the girl from the castle. She was banished and branded a whore. The commotion caught the attention of their father and Allister received a lashing for every girl he tricked. He hadn't named them all—yet his back was striped with scars.

Adelaide watched Allister as he scanned the sea of people below. The familiar glint in the darkness of his pupils told her that he was hunting. The corner of his mouth twitched. He had spotted his prey. Adelaide followed his gaze, her eyes landing on a simple-looking girl.

"Allister," she spat his name. "Did you learn nothing from father?"

His eyes remained on the girl. "A lion must hunt to stay alive, sister."

Adelaide rolled her eyes. "Only female lions hunt. The males sleep all day."

His mouth twitched again but this time it was in agitation.

The girl that held Allister's attention looked bored. She stood by the entrance and held a paper fan in her gloved hand. She lazily waved the fan at her face, the tiny gusts of air rustling the girls at her temples. Her cinnamon-red hair matched the shade of her intricate gown. She wore white gloves that covered up to her elbows. Her skin was peppered in freckles, making her appear tan from far away.

Adelaide studied the girl's face. It was nothing special. Her features were plain. She wasn't ugly but she wasn't pretty either. With a glance down, Adelaide understood why her brother was so entranced. The girl's dress dipped dangerously low in the front—her breasts nearly spilling out. Adelaide curled up her lip and kicked Allister's leg. He jumped and snapped his eyes to her.

"Pig," she growled. He flashed a wolf's grin and bounced his eyebrows up and down.

"Come on, Ad," he said her nickname. "Let a guy have some fun. I have needs."

She opened her mouth to rattle off another insult when her father began drumming his cup on the table. The room fell silent as the king stood. Adelaide looked past her father to see Rowan watching her. His expression was similar to Allister's. Her stomach churned—she was not his prey.

"I'd like to begin by first thanking everyone for attending." The king bellowed. His voice echoed in the Grand Room. The guard who had been sleeping snapped to attention. "If it were not for my lovely wife, Jocelyn, this party would merely be ale and bread."

A few chuckles sounded from the guests. Adelaide could tell they were laughing out of pity. Her father had never been the best at giving speeches. She tried to stay focused on the king's words but her skin itched from Rowan's stare.

"Secondly," the king continued. "I'd like to welcome the Adhemar family into my home to celebrate this engagement. In a month's time, our children will wed and we will become one. Mirella and Endrias will be sister kingdoms once again, and will aid each other in times of need. And in their marriage, Prince Rowan and my daughter, Adelaide, will rule their own kingdom together. So please, join me in raising a glass to the future King and Queen of the sixth kingdom!"

There was a moment of still ness as the guests sipped from their cups in celebration. Adelaide nearly spilled her wine when applause erupted from the crowd. She set her cup back on the table and swallowed. The overwhelming feeling of nausea swarmed around her. She knew of the engagement—she's known since she was nine—but not of the responsibility that came with it. In her eighteen years, no one had mentioned her wearing the crown of a queen and ruling a kingdom. Her mother prepared her for the wedding and nothing else. She was told she would have to wait until Rowan's father passed away before she needed to worry about ruling. Allister was the only male heir of the Deveraux bloodline so he would take the throne after their father died.

The Adhemars ruled Mirella, Deverauxs ruled Endrias, Virewen and Brerrald belong to the Thylbalt brothers, while the kingdom of Haigos was property of the Lone King, Geoffrey Rowe. That only left one kingdom for her and Rowan to rule—Glassmerrow.

Her ears were ringing from the loud clapping. She looked to her father. He was smiling widely at her, his cheeks red from ale. He looked proud. Her mother clapped less enthusiastically, but still held a smile. Adelaide glanced to Rowan. His face held the same shocked expression.

Did he know the ancient tales of Glassmerrow? Was he aware of his parent's plan to ship him and his new bride to the cursed wastes? Did he know the burden that he would soon carry? Did he want the weight of the Cursed Crown on his head? Adelaide knew she didn't. She wasn't ready to rule an entire kingdom—let alone one that was cursed. She wasn't ready to have people looking up to her and relying on her for their safety. She wasn't ready to care for anyone but herself.

So she ran.


	5. Four

Adelaide panicked. Without knowing where she was going, Adelaide stood, excused herself from the table, walked past the guards posted at the door, and ran. She held the front of her skirt as she barreled down the stairway. Her heels clacked loudly against the stone floors. The halls were empty—every able bodied person was attending the party. Torches hung on the walls, lighting the princess's way as she ran past the library and towards the east wing of the castle.

Images of Glassmerrow flashed in her mind. The barren wasteland left an eerie feeling of death in the pit of her stomach. As the stories told, the war was a result of the late king, Humphry Elyot, losing a bet to a witch. In trying to keep his dignity, he refused the witch her prize—three hundred gold pieces and a jewel from his crown. Enraged, and cheated out of her winnings, the witch cursed the queen and her unborn child.

The queen soon fell ill. Her health dwindled by the day. Her belly, swollen with child, no longer stirred. In his guilt, Humphry declared war against the witch clan. His army trekked from Blackcliff to the Witch's Wastes beyond the Great Eastern Mountains. Most of the men were lost within Shadowmist Pass, but enough survived to take down the witch clans—burning every last one at the stake in hopes to break the curse. The witch who cursed the queen was never captured and after weeks of searching, the king relinquished.

Sadly, when the king returned home, his wife and child were dead. Each time he remarried and his new queen was pregnant, she would suddenly fall ill. The castle at Blackcliff lost four more queens and countless heirs by the time Humphry, driven mad by his sadness, killed himself.

With the king gone, the villagers broke out in riots. Towns were destroyed, fields of crops were burned, and the castle was stripped of its belongings. The people of Ostmarsh and Blackcliff sought new life in the neighboring kingdom of Brerrald while the residents of the Faycliff Islands crossed the Whitewyne Bay to live in Mirella.

By the time Adelaide reached her bedroom, she knew she was going to be sick. She rushed to the washroom and knelt over the tub, retching violently. She thanked the gods that no one was around to witness her gagging and spitting with tears in her eyes. The princess wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and stood slowly. Her knees shook and her head spun. She took a deep breath and gathered her thoughts. She needed to leave the castle. And quickly.

Walking back into the main room, she scanned her belongings. What would she need? Did she even need anything at all? The familiar itch of her sleeves caused her to look down at her dress. She exhaled deeply and began tearing at the fabric. Pieces of the ugly yellow gown fell to the floor in a ring around her feet. She struggled to reach around herself to untie the corset. A curse slipped from her lips. She would need assistance to remove the uncomfortable cage on her ribs.

Her eyes landed on the letter opener that lay on her desk. She rushed over to it, kicking off her shoes and pulling her stockings down. The cold night air bit at her bare skin and she broke out in gooseflesh. She wrapped her fingers around the golden handle and inspected the blade. It wasn't sharp but it could do some damage if she used enough force.

She brought the letter opener behind her back and grasped at the strings with the other hand. She paused and shuffled awkwardly toward the mirror. Looking over her shoulder, she watched her reversed reflection as she dug the blade into the strings. She yanked down, slicing through the corset—and her palm.

A string of curses hissed through her teeth as her palm burned from the cut. A trickle of blood ran down her wrist. She grabbed a piece of fabric from the floor and wrapped it around her hand, making sure it was tight enough to stop the bleeding. While holding her injured hand in the air, she managed to dress herself in a maroon tunic and pants. She winced when she had to use both hands to pull on her boots. The bandage on her hand was already a deep red by the time she finished tying back her hair.

"Gods, help me," she sighed to herself. Tossing the bloodied strip of material away, she replaced it, wrapping the new bandage four times to ensure it wouldn't bleed through.

Once she was sure it was secure, she glanced around the room. There wasn't anything for her to take. She could take clothes but she had no bag to carry them in. She considered taking her secret stash of gold coins to purchase food and clothing in the villages, but that ran the risk of being caught. Her hand went to her chest and she felt the form of her necklace beneath her shirt. As long as she had her grandmother's gift, she didn't have anything else of immense value.

She looked around her room for the last time. Her chest tightened. She had spent eighteen years in this room. Her four poster bed had etchings of her height changes and she knew if she lifted the mattress, there would be carvings in the wood base. Her bookcases were overflowing with various authors and subjects. There were books on other languages, books written about the witch clans, and even a book telling the magical fairytales of her childhood. Her eyes fell on the faded spine and her fingers twitched. She must have read the book over a thousand times. She scolded herself and turned away. She didn't need a silly book. She knew each story by heart.

"Focus, Adelaide," she huffed.

Her eyes looked to the door. She could take the servant's stairs down into the dungeon, or she could climb down the balcony outside her window and run through the gardens. She flexed her wounded hand and winced from the ache. "The stairs it is then."

She stepped up to the door and pressed her ear against it. The hall outside was silent. She cracked the door open and peered out. The murmur of the party was dull as it drifted through the castle. Had they not noticed she was still absent? Her mother must surely know. She glanced left and right—the hall remained still. If she didn't go now, she would miss her chance. Her eyes shifted toward the Grand Hall as she tiptoed out of her room.

"I'm sorry, mother," she whispered. She wouldn't have been able to say those words directly to the queen. Her throat was already tightening at the thought. The kingdom would be fine without —it had Allister. And although he wasn't the best brother, he would certainly be a great king.

The princess scurried toward the large wooden door that opened to the servant's stairs. It was heavy and groaned loudly as she pulled it open. Her heart raced in anticipation of being caught. She stilled and waited for the shouts and sounds of running feet. Silence answered her. She carefully took a nearby torch from its holster on the wall. Letting out a breath, she proceeded down the stone steps. The air grew colder as she travelled deeper below the castle. The walls glistened from moisture and smelled of mold.

She reached the bottom of the stairs and was greeted by a lone, wooden, door. She tugged on the handle but it didn't budge. Her eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. There was no lock on the door and the handle held no evidence of abandonment. She tried again, pulling with all her might. Her fingers slipped from the handle and she stumbled backwards. She yelped as her heel caught the bottom step and she fell. Her back and tailbone crashed into the stone. A shot of pain rippled up her spine—sending her fingertips numb for a split-second.

She clenched her jaw and pushed the pain from her mind as she regained her footing. A metal clang echoed from the top of the spiral stairs. Adelaide panicked. Her heart raced and her mind reeled. Someone was coming down the steps. She would be caught and would have to explain herself to the queen in front of the entire party. The sound of footsteps confirmed her fear. She rushed back to the door. She tossed the flaming torch aside and took a tight grasp of the door handle.

"Please," she begged quietly as she pulled. The footsteps grew louder and she could see the glow from anther torch flickering on the wall. She turned her attention on the door. Her eyes frantically looked at every corner. The hinges weren't rusted shut. She cursed. Taking a deep breath, she relaxed her stance. She pushed on the door lightly and it swung open with ease. A rush of damp air tumbled over her. Adelaide rolled her eyes.

Glancing over her shoulder, she slithered through the doorway and closed it behind her. She pressed her back into the door and exhaled deeply. When she went to inhale, her nose burned and she coughed. She slapped her hand over her mouth.

The stench of the dungeon was nauseating. The reek of human waste and sweat bombarded her nostrils. She held her arm against her face as she trudged forward. She tried to keep her eyes on the ground as she passed each cell.

Most were empty—from what she could see—but others held the shadows of prisoners. They huddled in the dark corners, murmuring and swaying. Adelaide's eyes watered and she hurried her pace.

A dirtied and gangly hand shot out from the cell on her right. Its blackened nails reached for the princess. She gasped and jumped back. The owner of the hand had their face pressed against the iron bars. A sickly smile spread across their face and bloodshot eyes stared at her. The figure laughed and Adelaide gagged at the sight of their yellowed teeth.

"What a sight!" he cackled. "The princess is in the dungeon!"

Adelaide held her finger to her mouth, shushing him. He mimicked her actions, spit flying from his mouth as he blew air through his lips. He began laughing again—his chuckling turning into howls. The princess looked back to the door from which she entered. The light from the flame spilled out from the cracks. She was running out of time. She turned on her heel and raced through the dungeon.

After passing what seemed like a hundred cells, she hit a dead end. Adelaide pressed her hands onto the cold wall and cursed. There had to be another way out. The crazed man was still laughing, his screeches bouncing off the damp walls. A deep voice silenced him and a loud clang rang out. She ducked into the nearest cell and scurried to the back corner. She dropped into a crouch.

Adelaide saw the torch first, closely followed by the freshly polished armor of the guard. He turned around as he reached the dead end, his eyes passing directly over the princess. She tucked her face into her shoulder and tried her best to copy to other prisoners. She rocked on the balls of her feet and mumbled nonsense.

The guard kept walking, his armor clicking together. He strode past the cells again without bothering to look into them. She listened carefully for the sound of the door opening and closing. When the dungeon fell dark from the absence of the torch, Adelaide lifted her head.

As her eyes adjusted, she looked around. The cell across from her was open. The door hung crooked from its hinges. She crawled forward, keeping her bandaged hand to her chest and away from the wet floor. Along the back wall of the cell, the stones had begun to crumble—leaving a gaping hole in their place. Adelaide got to her feet and walked closer. She felt a cool breeze on her face as she entered the cell.

The air no longer smelled like sewage. She inhaled deeply. The aroma of trees and grass filled her lungs. This was it—this was her way out.

She smiled and her heart raced as she climbed through the rubble. The night air sent chills over her body. Stray strands of hair whipped around her face from the wind. The toe of her boot touched solid ground, the dead grass crunching beneath her weight. Adelaide looked up to the sky.

The moon was shining down onto the open land spread before her. She was at the back of the castle, pointed towards the Southern Forest. Her smile grew wider. There weren't any guards posted on the trail that wound its way to the forest. No sane man or woman ever entered the labyrinth willingly. At least, that's what Adelaide's father had told her. Perhaps it was just a ruse—said only to scare her.

Adelaide couldn't stop herself from sprinting towards the forest's edge. Her leg muscles stretched and ached as she ran. The wind bit at her face and hands. A laugh escaped her lips. She had done it—she was free. She no longer had to worry about holding an entire kingdom on her shoulders. She skidded to a stop as the massive oak trees loomed over her. Even in the darkness of night, they still casted shadows.

She stared into the abyss of the forest, her eyes straining in the dark. The silence drummed against her ears. Her stomach churned. In just one step, she would leave her entire life behind. There would be no more sewing lessons, no more corsets, hideous gowns, or arranged marriages. A part of Adelaide wanted to look back—wanted to get one last glimpse of her life. She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the forest, and out of her life as a princess.


	6. Five

It didn't take long before she was hopelessly lost. The massive oak trees towered over the princess, making her feel small and insignificant—a new feeling for her. As the princess, she never had a big ego, but Adelaide knew she was important. In the castle, she had ladies-in-waiting beside her day and night. But out in the depths of the Southern Forest, she was alone. She was no longer a princess. And she would have it no other way.

Days of walking and nights of sleeping on tree roots were taking a toll on Adelaide's body. Her muscles were sore—their dull ache spreading through her with every half-hearted step. A low growl sounded from her stomach and was followed by a sharp pain. She silently cursed herself for not thinking to bring food with her. Thanks to a light rain from the night before, she was able to stay hydrated enough to carry on. But without food, she was growing weaker and weaker.

When her eyes began to glaze over, she rested. Leaning against the nearest tree with her eyes tightly closed, she breathed deeply. The sweet smell of honey filled her nose. Her stomach groaned in pleasure. She followed the scent blindly, using her outstretched hands to prevent herself from bumping into anything. Her palms tickled and she opened her eyes.

Creamy white honeysuckles greeted her. The two-lipped flowers covered the trunk of the large oak tree. Their vines twined up and around the tree. The princess tipped her head back, following the blooms as they spread over the branches and reached for the neighboring trees. She stepped closer, her fingertips brushing against the velvety petals. She inhaled deeply, her eyes closing and a small moan escaping her lips.

Her memory reminded her that honeysuckles produced delectable and edible nectar. She snapped her eyes open and plucked a flower from the vine. Holding it in one hand, she pinched the green bud at the base and pulled carefully. A small bubbled of nectar gathered at the end of the stem. Adelaide smiled and held the flower to her lips, tasting the sweetness. Her taste buds exploded and she groaned. It wasn't a five course meal, but it would suffice. Tossing the empty flower aside, she plucked dozens more and stuffed them into her tunic pockets.

A snag of a twig made her halt. Another snap made her hold her breath. When the third snap sounded, Adelaide thought her heart would stop. She was hearing footsteps. She pressed her back into the tree and covered her mouth to quiet her breathing. The footsteps were faint and slow—their owner clearly not in a hurry. The princess's dark eyes scanned every tree, looking for a figure. Movement to the left caught her attention.

The figure was closer than she thought—only a few yards away. Adelaide crouched down. Her palms began to sweat and her cut started to sting. She clenched her teeth and watched the figure get closer and closer.

They wore a black cloak with the hood pulled low over their eyes. Their dark leather boots were covered in mud and looked worn. Black pants and a black tunic made the figure look menacing as it stalked through the trees. Their stride was long and powerful—and heading straight for Adelaide. Her heart raced. She glanced around quickly for a better hiding spot. If the figure lifted their eyes from the forest floor, they would see her—if they hadn't already. She held her breath and began sliding her way around the tree and away from the dark figure. The honeysuckles brushed against her face, their delicate petals smelling wonderful. She kept her back against the tree, moving slowly and as quietly as she could. Breathe and step. Step, slide, and repeat.

She was halfway around the tree when a cold, sharp, blade pressed against her throat. She froze.

"Take another step and I'll spill your blood on the ground." The voice was surprisingly elegant and feminine.

Adelaide swallowed, the pressure of the blade changing with the movement. Her knees were trembling and she felt nauseous. "Please," her voice cracked. "Don't kill me."

The figure held their ground. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

The princess glanced at the figure. Her heart raced even faster—but it wasn't from the dagger pressed to her skin. The face that stared back at Adelaide was beautiful. High cheekbones, a strong jawline, soft mouth, and stunning green eyes belonged to the figure. Adelaide felt her jaw slack open in awe.

The stranger glared at the princess. Her expression was cold and unwelcoming. Her warm beige skin radiated in contrast to her eyes. The vibrant color of her irises matched the dense forest around them. The shades of green ranged from emerald to olive. Adelaide knew she was gawking but she couldn't bring herself to look away. Even with her life on the line.

"Are you deaf? Answer my question." The blade pressed harder onto Adelaide's throat and the princess blinked.

"I'm lost." She finally blurted out.

The beautiful stranger scoffed. "That doesn't answer my question. Who are you?"

Adelaide opened her mouth and quickly shut it. If she gave her true name, then she would be turned in to her father. She searched her brain for a false name and blurted the first one that came up. "Alys, they call me Alys."

"And what are you doing in my woods, Alys?" the stranger said the name as if it were poison.

"_Your_ woods," Adelaide almost laughed. "The Southern Forest belongs to—

"It belongs to the creatures that dwell within its darkest corners." The stranger growled. "And I am one of them."

Adelaide bit her tongue. She had a knife to her throat—this was no time for talking back. "My deepest apologies, I meant no offense. To answer your question; I ran away."

"What fool runs away to the Southern Forest?"

Adelaide shrugged her one shoulder and smiled sheepishly as she pointed to herself. She hoped the innocent look would save her life. The stranger's eyes narrowed but she stepped back and lowered the dagger. Adelaide let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

"I suggest you reconsider your place of refuge." The stranger turned away and sheathed her dagger. She glanced over her shoulder. "And leave. Now,"

Adelaide watched the beautiful girl walk away. Her steps were graceful and carefully placed to avoid tripping. The princess shoved herself off the tree and followed—a little less gracefully.

"Well, you see, the thing is," the princess's words were choppy—her attention on the roots and stones on the ground. "I would love nothing more than to leave this forest."

"Good." The stranger answered sharply. Her pace quickened.

"But I can't."

The stranger stopped and whirled around. Adelaide was too busy trying not to fall on her face to notice, and she collided with the girl's shoulder. She was roughly shoved backwards. "Watch it," the girl snarled.

Adelaide quickly regained her footing. She raised her chin. "Do not speak to me that way! It was an accident. You have no idea what I've been through in the past—I don't know how many days. I've been sleeping on tree roots and cold dirt. The only thing I've eaten is a honeysuckle and my entire body hurts. For reasons I will not discuss, I cannot go home. But I do not know my way through this gods-damned forest. And instead of helping me, all you've done is hold a knife to my throat and threaten me."

Adelaide was nearly in tears by the time she stopped yelling. Her throat was tight and she felt light-headed. Her fingertips tingled as the world around her started to tip sideways. The stranger's eyes widened and Adelaide thought she saw the girl reach for her. The princess's legs collapsed and everything went dark.


	7. Six

Adelaide could feel the pain in her temples before she opened her eyes. The ache spread from the back of her skull to her ears and over her eyebrows. She clenched her jaw and winced. Her fingers grasped onto a soft fabric and she paused. Wiggling her fingers, she blindly inspected the material. It felt like the bed sheets she had back home. Was she home? Was she in her bed? No—she ran away—it wasn't possible. Or maybe it was all just a dream? If it was, then she would smell—Adelaide inhaled deeply. There was no familiar scent of vanilla that normally filled her room. Instead, her nostrils warmed with the smell of a fire. The smokiness warmed her from her toes to the tip of her nose.

She tensed. If she wasn't in her room, then where was she? Her eyes flew open. She was lying on her back, wooden rafters filling her vision. Slowly, she turned her head to the side. Her neck throbbed with the movement. A roaring fire danced in the fireplace that sat at the foot of the bed. Its flames licked at the bottom of a large black cauldron. Lazily stirring the mystery liquid was the stranger from before.

She had removed her black cloak. The black tunic covering her torso was clean and looked like it belonged to someone of noble blood. The sleek fabric hugged her shoulders, making her back look slender and muscular. Her dark hair blended in with her clothes. The glow of the fire made her wavy, charcoal, hair resemble a crimson waterfall. Her face was expressionless as she watched the boiling pot.

Adelaide scanned the room. She was inside a small, one-roomed, cabin. The door sat on the wall opposite of the bed. There were two windows with thick curtains that flanked the entrance. A pathetic excuse for a kitchen made up half of the cabin. A small table with one chair sat in the middle of the room. She tilted her head, looking at the wall to her right. A dusty armoire was pressed against the wall. Clothes spilled from its drawers. Etched onto the side panel were three vertical lines.

The bed was tucked into the corner. Looking at the wall to her left, Adelaide could see a display of various weapons. They ranged from broad swords to daggers and bow and arrows. Adelaide swallowed. Her throat was uncomfortably dry.

"I use them to hunt."

Adelaide jumped and turned her head—too quickly judging by the shot of pain in her neck. She bit the inside of her cheek to try and suppress the pain. The stranger remained in the chair by the fire. Her eyes were watching the princess. When Adelaide didn't respond, the girl pointed to the wall of weapons.

"I use them to hunt." She repeated. "In case you were afraid. I've never used one on another person."

Adelaide nodded calmly but her mind was screaming. Every part of her body was telling her to get away from this stranger. Then again—every part of her body was also telling her to take advantage of the warm bed and sleep for days. She slowly propped herself up on her elbows. When her head throbbed in protest, she pressed her eyes shut and hissed through her teeth.

"You fainted." The stranger said nonchalantly. "You landed on a cluster of roots and hit your head quite hard."

Another wave of pain crashed over the princess. She groaned. "Do you have any tonics?"

"No," the stranger answered quickly.

The princess groaned again and settled back into the mattress. She draped her arm over her eyes. If she were at the castle, she would only have to ask her lady-in-waiting for a tonic and it would appear in a matter of moments. There were healers in every wing of the castle thanks to her father's frequent drunken slips and falls.

"I don't have any tonics, but I do have stew."

Adelaide lifted her arm and looked at the girl. "Stew?" she said slowly. "How is stew going to help me?"

The stranger shrugged. "Well, for one, it's delicious."

Adelaide studied the girl's expression. She couldn't tell whether the stranger was being sincere or jesting. The girl's eyes held Adelaide's stare. The princess glanced to the boiling pot. Two bowls were sitting on the hearth of the fireplace. Each held a small wooden spoon. Adelaide looked back to the girl.

"Oh, you're serious," she said softly. She felt guilty for dismissing the stranger's kindness. She could've easily left her in the woods. But she didn't. "Okay, I'll try it."

The girl's mouth turned up in a tiny smile and she turned back to the fireplace. She scooped a ladleful of stew into each bowl. She handed one to Adelaide and waited. The princess wrapped her fingers around the warm bowl and let the tendrils of steam caress her face.

"You're supposed to eat it," the girl said flatly.

Adelaide shot the girl an irritated glare. "I know how to eat."

The girl took a slow sip from her spoon. After a moment she pointed to Adelaide's bowl. "See, it's not poisoned."

The princess scoffed. "I didn't think you were trying to poison me."

Although the words were true, Adelaide still felt guilty. She was being awfully rude to the girl who opened her home to a stranger. Adelaide buried her pride and sipped her stew. The hot liquid was delightful. She could taste the carrots and parsley. When she swallowed, her throat warmed. Her stomach gurgled from the long-awaited food. She realized that the girl was watching her intently.

Adelaide smiled. "I like it."

The girl nodded once and began scooping her own serving into her mouth. She ate as if it were her last meal. Adelaide took the chance to really look at the girl.

Her arms were thin and scarred—most likely from the multitude of thorn bushes in the forest. Her legs copied the scrawniness of her arms. She was thin but toned. Again, Adelaide assumed her muscles were built from living in the woods. The girl's face was gaunt and Adelaide wondered how malnutrition could look so well on someone. She imagined how much prettier the girl's face would be once it filled in. the stranger seemed oddly familiar as Adelaide studied her features.

"It's rude to stare." The girl said without looking up from her bowl.

Adelaide felt a hot blush crawl up her cheeks and she focused on her own dinner. They continued to eat in silence. Famished, Adelaide consumed three more bowls before she needed to stop. Her stomach bulged from the excess of food. She leaned back against the wall and watched the girl as she washed the bowls in the washbasin in the kitchen.

Adelaide opened her mouth—closed it—and opened it again. "Thank you," she finally managed to say.

The girl didn't say anything. She simply nodded. Her hands continued to scrub the bowls. Adelaide stood and slowly made her way towards the girl. She stepped up beside her and placed her hand on the massive cauldron that still needed to be washed.

"Can I help?" Adelaide asked the girl.

She wordlessly handed Adelaide a brush soaked in water and resumed scrubbing. The princess took it and held it over the pot. She had never washed anything in her entire life—including her own body. She had ladies-in-waiting to do that for her.

"It only works if you actually scrub the pot." The stranger said. There was a strong mocking tone in her voice.

Adelaide rolled her eyes and began dragging the brush back and forth inside the pot. The suds began to bubble up and soon enough, she was up to her elbows in foam. Her fingers were beginning to wrinkle and her arm hurt from the exertion. Her wounded hand throbbed in agony. She glanced up at the girl standing beside her.

"Will you teach me?" Adelaide blurted out.

"Teach you what?" The girl answered.

"To hunt," the princess was surprised as her words. And judging by the look on the girl's face—so was she. Adelaide scrambled to finish her sentence. "I don't know how and I figured I should learn before you toss me back out into the wilderness."

The stranger smirked. It was a simply change in expression but Adelaide felt herself lighten from it. "I'm not going to 'toss' you into the wilderness. You wouldn't last half a day."

Adelaide held up a finger. "Pardon me, but I lasted until now, thank you very much."

"Barely," the girl chuckled. "You had gone as white as a ghost when I found you."

"But I was still alive." The princess wasn't going to lose this argument.

"I'll make you a deal." The girl said. "You can stay the night. In the morning, I'll teach you the basics. Then I'll send you on your way."

Adelaide smiled. "I promise I won't be a burden."

The girl let out a short laugh accompanied by a shake of her head. "You've already taken my bed and eaten all the stew that was to last me until the end of the week—it's a little too late for that promise."


	8. Seven

_Adelaide sat in the throne room. Her parents and brother stood before her. The weight of the golden crown on her head was almost as heavy as the tension around them. Allister's face held a wolf's grin while the king and queen looked immensely disappointed. A faceless crowd filled the space behind them, creating a wall of people. A calloused hand grabbed Adelaide's fingers and she looked to her side._

_Rowan Adhemar sat beside her. He wore a matching crown on his head. The band of the crown pressed his shaggy, blond, hair to his forehead. He smiled at Adelaide and brought her hand up to his mouth, kissing her fingers lightly. Her stomach churned and she wanted to retch._

_Rowan stood, pulling Adelaide up with him, and led them down the three steps towards her family. His hand held onto hers tightly. She tied to pull away but his cold grip only strengthened._

_Queen Jocelyn glared at Adelaide. Her mouth was pressed into a tight line and she kept her chin high. She looked at Adelaide the same way she looked at the peasants of Highdell._

_The king didn't even bother to look at the princess. He kept his eyes on Rowan. His expression matched his wife's perfectly. Adelaide silently begged for her father to look at her—to show some positive emotion—but his gaze didn't falter._

_As Adelaide walked past her brother, he smirked and leaned in close. She could smell his musky cologne and see the chestnut stubble on his face. "Treat him well, sister." His voice was a threatening pure that Adelaide didn't understand._

_She turned to look over her shoulder at him but the room shifted. The unfamiliar bodies melted away to reveal a different scene. She no longer stood in the throne room. Now, she was looking up at the ceiling and there was a soft cushion beneath her. She felt her body tip slightly to the side and Rowan's face filled her vision._

_He leaned over her, his face merely inches from hers. His torso was unclothed. Adelaide couldn't help but stare at his muscular chest. His arms were on either side of her head and from what she could see; they were just as muscular as the rest of him._

_Heat radiated off his body, making the princess uncomfortable. His cologne was a different kind of musk than Allister's. It smelled of dirt and rotting fruit. She swallowed hard and tried not to retch on the prince._

_She shoved the bile back down into her stomach and focused on his face. Up close, the prince wasn't handsome. His nose was crooked and his lips were chapped. The princess automatically licked her own lips. Rowan's eyes were an icy blue color that made Adelaide shiver. A chill ran over her body as he stared back at her. _

_ "__You make a beautiful queen."_

_His voice was coarse as he spoke. He dipped his head lower into her neck. His lips grazed against her skin and she felt his hand on her thigh. The touch was skin on skin. Adelaide looked down at herself and nearly gasped. She was completely naked._

_She squirmed under him, trying to move away, but he simply pressed his body into her and pinned her in place. He weighed heavily on her chest and hips. She pushed at his shoulders but he only advanced. His kissed her neck again and again while his hand explored her curves. She opened her mouth to cry out, to tell him to stop—but her voice was lost. _

_He lifted his eyes to meet hers and Adelaide could see a blazing desire in the blackness of his pupils. Her heart drummed against her chest as he repositioned himself between her legs._

_ "__You will be mine." He growled._


End file.
